Arialianna
Junior Member
Aanor'Loren went about the tasks easily, preparing the shelter with Thelonious just as the rain began to come down. With a brief glance up at the sky, she ducked into the shelter with him, realizing she would be very close to him with how much space there was inside. Her cheeks reddening from the thought, she nodded at his words, and brought her knees up to her chest, starting to pull off her boots. As she pulled off one, then the other, she let her eyes travel the intricate tattoos that had been covered by the worn leather. She spotted the various swirls on her left leg, one demonstrating the bond between nature and elves, and the other the bond she shared with Venari'fera. She smiled softly at the memory of getting those tattoos and turned her attention to one tattoo that occupied the inside of her right thigh, stretching down to her upper calf. This tattoo was swirling vines representing herbalism and twenty roses grew from them, each one representing one year of life she had attained before passing her trial. She had learned herbalism from her mother, and hunting from her father. Although she had never quite taken to medicines and herbs like her mother wanted, she did make sure she learned the trade. On the tops of her feet, she noted the swirling wind-like tattoos that represented elven dexterity and swiftness. She had done those herself, and was pleased by the finished product.
One tattoo she could not see, but one she felt, was four vertical lines over an identical scar on the back of her left thigh. Her father used to tell her stories of how it came to be, often telling her that it was a birthmark that was only seen on very important warriors. He insisted that a great elven warrior of old had received such a wound fighting a mighty dragon that had come to burn down the forest. It was one of Aanor'Loren's favorite stories, and she knew the entirety of Prince Finrezyr and the Dragon by heart. Of course, she was fairly certain than her father had made up the great warrior part, nbut it didn't stop her from wishful thinking.
She turned to Thelonious after removing her boots, her delicate features taking on an expression of thought. "It's not so bad. A bit cozy but that's okay." With sudden energy, she crawled out into the rain, quickly tucking her boots into a small crevice behind the shelter, mostly covered from the rain. She sighed as she settled back into the shelter, hoping her boots would not become too terribly soaked by morning.
One tattoo she could not see, but one she felt, was four vertical lines over an identical scar on the back of her left thigh. Her father used to tell her stories of how it came to be, often telling her that it was a birthmark that was only seen on very important warriors. He insisted that a great elven warrior of old had received such a wound fighting a mighty dragon that had come to burn down the forest. It was one of Aanor'Loren's favorite stories, and she knew the entirety of Prince Finrezyr and the Dragon by heart. Of course, she was fairly certain than her father had made up the great warrior part, nbut it didn't stop her from wishful thinking.
She turned to Thelonious after removing her boots, her delicate features taking on an expression of thought. "It's not so bad. A bit cozy but that's okay." With sudden energy, she crawled out into the rain, quickly tucking her boots into a small crevice behind the shelter, mostly covered from the rain. She sighed as she settled back into the shelter, hoping her boots would not become too terribly soaked by morning.